


Nine Tenths

by Whreflections



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Amulet Fic, Episode Related, Episode: s05e21 Two Minutes to Midnight, Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-24
Updated: 2012-09-24
Packaged: 2017-11-14 22:36:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/520230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whreflections/pseuds/Whreflections
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean discuss the plans for how everything's gonna go down, and through that they come to a few conclusions. For one thing, Sam learns that you can't take back what you've already given away.  (or, in which possession being 9/10ths of the law doesn't mean anything to Winchesters.  Not for angels, demons, or amulets.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nine Tenths

**Author's Note:**

> Written in the week between 5.21 and 5.22, because my heart needed brother-ly-ness and amulet fic, <3
> 
> EDIT- Originally, this fic was Indian Giver. At the time I wrote it, and titled it, that was just a phrase I'd heard over the course of my life, so ingrained I'd never thought of the inherent problematic connotations of it. Now, looking back on it a few years later, I don't feel comfortable with that as a title anymore. That said, I DO still feel the line that phrase is used in in this fic is a thing Dean would say. He's not always politically correct, and especially given the circumstances, I can easily hear it coming out of his mouth. So, regardless of my changed feelings on its use, that stays, but I decided the title couldn't. I am sorry, though, if that confuses anyone who'd bookmarked this or anything like that. The fic's exactly the same, promise! It was just bothering me and had been for a few months, so I decided I had to do something about it.

“Bobby thinks you should do it.”   
  
Sam sat his beer down with a soft thunk, looking across the table at his brother who couldn’t seem to meet his eyes. Dean was leaning over the table, studying his hands and Sam leaned in a little closer, resting his elbows on the book open in front of him.   
  
“Well…ok. That’s what Bobby thinks. But Dean, I told you I wasn’t doing it unless we had a consensus. Either we all agree, or I don’t do it. And if you still say no…” He shrugged, at a loss as to how to make it any clearer. “It doesn’t really matter if Bobby or Cas or anyone else likes the idea, not if you aren’t behind it.”   
  
“Sam…” He shook his head, pushed up hard from the desk and paced, hands rubbing over his face. He looked tired, not just the regular after a hunt kind of tired that Sam had seen in him for years but the kind of tired he’d been since hell and Ruby, the kind that settled in around his shoulders and seemed to drag everything in him down, taking the light from his eyes with it. It was the kind of weariness that didn’t fade, and Sam wished like hell he could take some of it on his own shoulders, let Dean rest for awhile. Of all things, he hadn’t wanted to put  _more_  on him but now, this seemed like the only way. All the same, he’d learned his lesson. Even if the world burned down around them, he wasn’t going to abuse Dean’s trust again. Not for anything.   
  
“Look, Dean, I know it’s not perfect. I know. I just don’t see another way we’re gonna do this, man. I mean, like I said I’m not doin’ it without you agreeing so I’m more than willing to try, I am, and we will, I just…I just don’t know where to start. How the hell do we  _trick_  the devil into that trap?” He was, after all, the master at that kind of thing. Sam could hardly see how he’d be willing to fall for whatever plan they could come up with, however good it might be.   
  
Dean spun the chair around and sat down again, head bowed , his arms crossed over the top rung. “Bobby, he asked me what I was more afraid of, losing this fight or losing you, and you know, I didn’t even have to think. It’s always been the same answer, ever since you were little I just…” He shook his head, and Sam could see him swallow hard against everything he didn’t want to escape. “The thought of somethin’ happening to you, I can’t take it. I’ve never been able to. And this, this goes so far beyond that because I’m supposed to  _agree_  to this, to say I think this is right and that just…I mean, how the hell can I, Sammy? You want me to get behind this, how can I  _ever_  get behind a plan like that?”   
  
He understood, really. Hell, just a few weeks ago he’d been staring down the idea of Dean saying yes to Michael and he’d been fucking terrified, but that was different. Granted, in some ways this was  _worse_  in that it was more dangerous, but it was a hell of a lot better in the sense that he wasn’t giving up. Absolutely not. “Because I think I can do it. I was talkin’ to Cas, and he was sayin’ that theoretically, it  _would_  be possible for me to overpower him from the inside. I know, it sounds-“  
  
“No, Sam, that’s not it. Really it’s not.” Dean raked a hand through his hair, finally let his eyes flicker up to meet Sam’s. “I know you think that I don’t trust you. And I’m sorry that it came to that, that I ever let it come to that, because maybe if I’d talked to you more about everything that was goin’ on with you before, if I’d really  _listened_ , who the hell knows how it would’ve turned out, you know?”   
  
God, the last thing he wanted was Dean blaming  _this_  on himself, too. “No, Dean, don’t-“  
  
“No, I’m serious. It doesn’t matter, whatever happened…” He waved his hand, gesturing at the space between them. “It’s done. It’s been over a long time, and hell, Sam, most of it wasn’t your fault anyway. And I’m not exactly innocent, here. But it’s all  _done_ , and I swear, none of that has a damn thing to do with this. I trust you. I do. And I don’t doubt that you’re more than strong enough to hand that bitch his ass.”   
  
Tears welled behind his eyes then, pride and relief and a sharp ache at the pain he could still see in Dean’s eyes all running together. “What is it then?”   
  
“C’mon, Sam. I told you. I can’t let you…I just  _can’t_. I can’t let you do this knowin’ I’ve got no idea about how to get you outta there in time. And if I’m not sure of that, then there’s no way in hell I’m willin’ to risk this.”   
  
Out of all the ways he could’ve tried to explain it, his mind settled pretty quick on the only one Dean just might accept. “You remember when you made your deal, before?”   
  
“Yeah?”   
  
Sam scooted just a little farther in his chair, linked hands sliding off the book enough for his knuckles to brush the table. “Like I told you then…you’re my brother, Dean. What makes you think there’s  _anything_  I wouldn’t do for you?”   
  
“I know, I just-“  
  
Sam held his hand up, stopping him. “You told me a long time ago that what you wanted was for us to be a family again.” Dean flinched, not enough that anyone else would’ve caught up but enough that he could, and when he tipped his head down for a closer look he could see how bright Dean’s eyes were before he tried to hide them under his lashes as he looked down. “And I was still too screwed up then to realize that really, that’s all I want, too. It is. We’re just now startin’ to get back to that, to really be a family again. You really think I’m gonna leave you  _now_?”   
  
It wasn’t a lie, not really. It was everything he felt, the deepest part of his heart and soul scraped out and laid bare. He wanted to believe it, but wanting and believing were two very different things. He wouldn’t give up, that was for certain, and the goal he’d have in mind the whole time after getting Lucifer into the cage would be getting himself out and back where he belonged, but he couldn’t be sure it’d work, and he was too terrified to honestly let himself hope all the way. That didn’t matter though, just now. All that mattered now was that Dean believed it, because all fears aside, it was honestly everything Sam  _felt_. If he had to move heaven and earth to find a way to not leave Dean here all alone, then he’d find a way to do it. Even if right now he had no idea what on earth it could possibly be.   
  
A single tear slid from the corner of Dean’s eye, and he didn’t even bother to wipe it away. He rested his chin on his arms, eyes still focused desperately on the floorboards. “Yeah. Alright. I guess I’ll just have to trust you on that.”   
  
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’   
  
“Remember, give me-“  
  
“Give you till tomorrow, make sure I stay outta the way till then, I got it, Sam.” The dust was still settling from where Dean had pulled the Impala off in the gravel and they both leaned against the hood, Dean hunched so far down in his leather jacket it looked like he wished it would swallow him whole. They’d talked over the plan a dozen times on the way down there, and Sam knew that Dean was just damn tired of thinking about it. He couldn’t blame him; he was feeling pretty queasy himself. He couldn’t help bringing it up, though, because the last thing he wanted was to be worried about that bastard hurting Dean. If it happened and there was nothing he could do to stop it it’d either infuriate him or make him feel helpless and powerless, and he didn’t want to find out which of those it would be.   
  
He shifted against the hood, kicking into the dirt. “One more thing. Dean,-“   
  
“Don’t.” The harshness of it surprised him, and he looked up to see Dean shaking his head. “Don’t, Sam. Look, if there’s _ever_  a time I haven’t wanted you to tell me goodbye, this is definitely…” He laughed, short and sharp and so full of fear that Sam felt sick. “Don’t do that to me.”   
  
He  _wanted_  to. He couldn’t help it. If this was the end, if this was the last time he ever spoke to his brother, he wanted to make sure they were 100% alright, to feel Dean’s arms around him before he left and tell Dean just how much he’d meant to him, how much he’d  _always_  meant even when Dean hadn’t been so sure. Still, he understood, and he hadn’t been gonna push it anyway. Not when he knew Dean didn’t want it.   
  
He slipped his hand into his pocket, fingers curling around familiar cord. “Wasn’t gonna, don’t worry. It’s just…I have a favor to ask.”   
  
Dean took a deep breath, pulled his hands out of his pockets to press them back against the hood of the Impala as he thought. “What kind of favor?”   
  
“Just something I’d like you to keep for me while I’m gone. Something I don’t want him to get his hands on. So…” He pulled his hand out of his pocket, cord wrapped tight around his fingers, and he held it in the space between them. “If you could just keep it till I get back, I’ll take it back then.”   
  
He’d been sure he was prepared for nearly every response, but he hadn’t exactly expected this one. Dean took it reverently, wordlessly, and when he draped it over his neck he closed his eyes. The familiar weight fell against his chest, and Sam could’ve sworn he looked  _lighter_  the moment it did.   
  
It was awhile before he could answer but he finally managed, his voice soft. “Yeah, no problem. Cept…I don’t think I’ll give it back.” Their eyes met, and the gratitude Sam could see in Dean’s was enough to make his chest ache. “I don’t think it’s really fair to go takin’ presents from me just cause you got used to wearing it while I was gone. I mean, you gave it to me, so that’s kinda goin’ all indian giver about the whole thing, right? Just cause you took it doesn’t make it yours. It’s still mine.”   
  
Something like that, that’d been exactly what Sam had hoped he’d say. He smiled, laughing softly under his breath. “Yeah. Yeah, Dean, you’re right.” Rather than goodbye, that seemed like something good to leave him with. He turned to leave, only made it five feet before Dean’s voice stopped him.   
  
“Hey, Sammy?”   
  
“Yeah, Dean?”   
  
“Guess I’ll see you soon then, huh?” Sam looked back over his shoulder, taking in a long last look. Dean was still leaning on the hood, one boot kicked up against the bumper, hands sprawled back in contrast to the shiny black. The amulet looked  _right_  against his chest, and he was trying to smile. It was a good last look. If he had to live with this as his last memory of Dean, he could do it.   
  
“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll see you soon.” Dean had been right, really, about the amulet. Nothing could ever be claimed by anyone else when it already  _belonged_  somewhere so fully. They could try, but in the end it was just borrowed, transient. He’d offer himself to Lucifer, but it was all just show. Lucifer couldn’t fully take what could never be his.   
  
That time, Sam didn’t look back. 


End file.
